


Left of Profile

by jinxed_wood



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxed_wood/pseuds/jinxed_wood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikita's arms ached and her legs trembled. She could feel the sweat trickle down her spine as she dropped into another press up and it still wasn't enough. Nothing seemed to burn the edge off her anger. She ignored the ringing phone as she dipped to the floor again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left of Profile

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season one...

Nikita's arms ached and her legs trembled. She could feel the sweat trickle down her spine as she dropped into another press up and it still wasn't enough. Nothing seemed to burn the edge off her anger. She ignored the ringing phone as she dipped to the floor again.

Her doorbell rang and Nikita paused. She didn't need to look at her security monitor to know who it was. She had long come to the grim conclusion her life was a war on two fronts, one that left her with a permanent itch between her shoulder blades. An itch that Michael sometimes scratched but, more often than not, exacerbated.

She jumped to her feet and looked at the grey image on the screen, feeling the familiar tug inside her, part anger, part longing. He was waiting for her to open the door but she knew he wouldn't wait long. He would most probably knock again, and then pick her lock. The dance almost had the easy feel of routine to it.

Almost, but not quite.

She left the chain on when she opened the door, knowing better than to let him get close. "Yes?"

His eyes flicked down, then up, no doubt taking in every tiny detail of her dishevelled appearance. "You didn't answer your phone."

"I was washing my hair."

A long stare was his reply.

"Have we been called back in?" she said, relenting.

"Are you going to invite me inside?" he asked back.

She sighed. "Not tonight, Michael."

"You're angry with me."

"What makes you think that?" She gave him a practised smile. She had become quite good at those; she suspected even Michael was beginning to find it difficult to tell the difference.

He studied her face. "It was part of the mission, Nikita," he lied.

"Thank you for clarifying that," she drawled. "Now, if you don't mind-" she made to close the door, but Michael's fingers curled around its edge.

"We need to talk."

"Michael-"

"The mission isn't over yet," he reminded her.

"What? We're not finished ruining his life yet? Wasn't framing his wife for murder enough?"

"No."

"Well, maybe you should have stuck with the original profile," Nikita hissed, unable to keep the anger in any longer.

Michael 's gaze drifted, looking over her shoulder, and Nikita could practically hear the wheels turn in his head. "Birkoff told you."

"You didn't have to frame her. He'd have come quietly."

" _He_ wasn't the problem."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"His wife didn't take the news of her husband's unfaithfulness... well."

Nikita snorted. "I thought that was the whole point. Break the marriage, break his political campaign - wasn't that the profile?"

"The Senator's wife wasn't satisfied with just going public," Michael said. "She took a contract out on you and her husband."

"A contract? Who..?" She stopped as it all fell into place. "The intruder, he was the assassin. She sent him to kill us but you intercepted him...and then you set her up because if you hadn't she'd have tried again." She took a deep breath as she understood the implications. "You shouldn't have done that, Michael."

"I would rather have you mad at me, than dead," he said quietly  
.  
That wasn't your choice to make."

"It's done." He caught her eye and she felt her heart thump, betraying her.

"Why do I keep falling for your act?" she asked.

"Trust." He tilted his head and, for a moment, Nikita thought he was going to say something more. Instead, he backed away from the door and disappeared down the hallway.

Nikita slammed the chain off its catch and burst into the hallway. "And what about you, Michael?" she asked angrily. "What do you get out of it?"

He kept on walking, not looking back. "Goodnight, Nikita."

He turned a corner, and Nikita found herself alone again. What else was new? "Time to quit you," she muttered to herself.

But she didn't really believe it.

 **THE END**


End file.
